


Not just dinner

by Vandorendra



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Knife Play, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vandorendra/pseuds/Vandorendra
Summary: An extended take on the scene in Eve's kitchen in 1x05. I've kept the dialogue from the episode pretty much intact, just expanded on it and given them a bit more time before Niko's return.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Not just dinner

"I just want to have dinner with you!"

It took a moment for the words to sink in through the haze of panic that clouded Eve's mind. Soaking wet, still gasping for air, the warm weight of Villanelle's body above her, Villanelle's sharp knee pressing into her stomach, Eve could barely understand what was happening, but Villanelle was looking at her expectantly so she nodded.

"Okay? Okay!"

Immediately the pressure on her eased as Villanelle stood up, helping her up out of the bath. The satin of her dress was soaked and clung to her skin in a way that had gone from alluring and sensual to clammy and unpleasant. Her hair was soaked, the curls weighed down and dripping down her chest and back. She made her way mechanically to the kitchen, terror dulling her movements even as a strange thrill rose up inside her. Villanelle took a seat at the kitchen table, one elbow leaning confidently on the back of the chair, looking like any visitor dropping in for a casual supper.

"I - I don't really have any..." Eve's words tapered off, the surreality of this situation and the rush of adrenaline making her confused as she tried to think what one fed an assassin one found in one's house unexpectedly.

"I will eat anything." Villanelle's smile was bright and predatory, and Eve couldn't help but notice the way her eyes flicked up and down Eve's body as she said it, the double entendre hanging there should she choose to take it.

Eve opened the fridge, the cold air immediately chilling her wet skin further as she reached in and pulled out a Tupperware container of shepherd's pie Niko had made the night before. It was the quickest, easiest thing she could think of. She turned to show the container to Villanelle.

"Shepherd's pie? I can do it in the oven, but microwave would be faster." The mundanity of it was shocking to her, having this normal conversation with the woman she'd been hunting and thinking about non stop, the woman whose prison file was still on her kitchen counter.

Villanelle smiled brightly as if delighted by the prospect. "Microwave is fine, thank you."

Eve unclipped the lid of the Tupperware, placed it in the microwave, set the timer. She could feel Villanelle's gaze on her back, burning between her shoulder blades. The cold and the shock were hitting her now, and she trembled, trying to control the shakes that were building inside her.

"You're shaking."

She turned to face Villanelle, sheepish somehow. "Uh yeah, well..."

"Put on something from there." Villanelle gestured to the drying rack hanging from the ceiling, one of the charming period features of the house that Niko had raved about. "I won't look."

Eve's gaze followed the pointing hand, her mind barely registering the clean laundry hanging there. She reached up and pulled down a pair of lounge pants and a sweater/shirt thing. She wanted to be covered and warm, but mostly she wanted to be out of this wet, clinging dress. She turned to face the wall and pulled the trousers on under the dress, then froze as she heard the scrape of wooden chairlegs across the floor. She felt Villanelle behind her, hands moving to help with the zip on the dress, sliding it down smoothly. Villanelle's hands were warm and gentle as she eased the straps down over her shoulders, the wet fabric coming away from her skin slowly. There was a precision to the way that her hands moved, and Eve had no doubt she would be just as precise and sure with anything she did.

"You have a very nice body." Her words were matter of fact, but there was a slight husk to her voice that Eve caught. She moved away again, back over to the table, taking the wet dress with her. Eve slipped the jumper over her head, feeling immediately safer somehow for being more covered.

"Do you want me to lay the table?" Villanelle leaned forward, her elbows on the table, every inch the helpful, proactive dinner guest.

"No!" It came out sharper than Eve had intended, so she softened it. "You're my guest."

She put plates on the counter, then opened the cutlery drawer, her eyes lingering on the knives. She moved to take a couple of forks and a spoon, placing them on the plates, then grabbing the small paring knife and tucking it surreptitiously (she thought) into the waistband of her trousers.

"You don't want that to slip." Eve closed her eyes in resignation that even this small subterfuge had failed. "You can hold onto it if it makes you feel better."

The microwave dinged, and Eve brought everything over to the table, setting the plates down carefully, arranging the forks to one side, placing the Tupperware between them. She went to sit down and then realised that she'd probably end up cutting herself if she did so with the knife tucked into her waistband. Villanelle gave her an indulgent smile as she pulled it out and set it down on the table next to her plate, within easy reach if she chose to use it. Villanelle spooned shepherd's pie onto her plate, then proffered the tub to Eve. "Please."

She began to eat, precise, dainty bites of shepherd's pie. "It's so nice to meet you." Her smile was bright and carefree, but there was a glint of something in her eyes.

"You too." Eve couldn't match her nonchalance, nor could she eat, and so her plate sat empty as she tried to direct the conversation.

"Why are you in my house?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

Villanelle's eyes filled with tears. "I need someone to help me. I don't wanna do this any more. I know what I am. I know I'm not...normal, I- I don't feel things that... I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt your partner. I don't want to hurt people, they make me do it. If I don't do what they say... Eve, I have nowhere to go, I need help. I'm so sorry." Villanelle sniffled pitifully to punctuate this speech, her eyes wide and glazed with tears. The mask of vulnerability was almost perfect, and Eve could feel tears start to slip down her own cheeks in response.

"Bullshit. Bull _shit_. God, you're an asshole. _Oksana_."

Villanelle's eyebrow twitched, and then a delighted smile broke through the mask, even though the tears continued to well. "You're so pleased with yourself." She also sounded pleased though, and that indulgent tone was back in her voice.

"I know more than that." Eve was growing in confidence now. "I know you're Russian. I know you were in a prison in Moscow for five years until someone broke you out. I know you are exceptionally bright. Determined. Hard working."

Villanelle's face had gone carefully blank. "What else?"

"I know you are an extraordinary person."

"What else?"

"I know something happened to you."

"What else?"

"I know you're a psycopath." _I know I want to kiss you._

"You should never tell a psychopath you know they are a psychopath." Villanelle's face formed a perfect expression of sincerity and concern. "It upsets them."

"Are you upset?"

Mischief sparkled in Villanelle's eyes as she pushed her bottom lip out into an exaggerated pout and nodded, then shook it off and returned to her food. "Stupid word."

"Are you here to kill me?" Eve couldn't quite believe that she'd actually been able to ask the question so bluntly, but it was out there now.

To her relief, Villanelle just gave a shrug and swallowed another mouthful of shepherd's pie. "We're just watching you."

"Who? Who do you work for? Why are you killing these people?" Eve's voice grew more intense with every question. She wanted to know. She needed to know. Villanelle took another bite, chewed, swallowed. "Do you not know?"

"Do you know who you work for?" A note of defensiveness had crept into her voice.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Really? I think if you went high enough, you'd probably find we work for the same people."

Eve had no answer to that. She showed Villanelle her prison file, tried to find out why she had felt the need to castrate a man, but the assassin just brushed her off with a deadpan quip about her shirt. Eve had one more question, one that had been eating at her since she'd been carried screaming out of that nightclub in Berlin.

"Why Bill?"

Villanelle's hand moved to clasp hers tenderly on the table. "He was slowing you down."

Eve snapped, white rage overtaking her as she grabbed the knife. Villanelle was faster, her hand slamming down on top of Eve's hand on the knife, holding both to the table. "Don't do that." Their eyes were locked and there was a tender, almost loving look to Villanelle's as she shook her head slowly. "Don't do that." 

Eve hesitated for a moment and then lunged, her face contorted into a snarl. Villanelle was still faster though, too fast, and in a second Eve found herself pressed against the fridge, the point of the knife hovering a millimetre above the hollow of her throat. Her eyes drifted closed in defeat for a moment, opening to find Villanelle's patient, amused gaze.

"It's worse when I push it through slowly. Don't make me." There was such an intimacy to this moment, the knife at her throat, Villanelle's arm pressed against the fridge by her head. If it hadn't been for the knife, they might almost have looked like lovers in the moment before a kiss. Villanelle's nostrils flared, eyes widening slightly in surprise as she leaned in and sniffed Eve's neck. Tension crackled in the space between them as she pulled back, looking even more pleased.

"Are you wearing it?" She gifted Eve with that bright, happy smile again, triumph in her eyes that brought rage back through the fear in Eve's heart.

"I am going to find the thing you care about, and I'm going to kill it." Eve was so angry, not least because of how intensely she felt Villanelle's body a scant couple of inches from her own, the strange thrill of the fear coursing through her body. She felt like an electromagnet, drawn to Villanelle by the current of her fear, a foreign and not entirely welcome need surging through her.

Villanelle let out a delighted chuckle and then leaned in and kissed her, capturing her lips with a fevered intensity. Eve froze for a moment at the shock of it and then leaned into it, into the knife, feeling that slight burn as the tip broke her skin matching the burn between her legs. Villanelle pulled back first, her eyes flicking down to where the point of the knife had nicked Eve's throat, and the single line of hot blood that was snaking its way down her skin. She licked her lips, bringing the knife back a couple more millimetres, then leaning in again. Eve turned her head this time, but couldn't suppress a moan as Villanelle's teeth and tongue played along her pulse point. She was still so aware of the knife but it was with a kind of horrified lust. Fear and arousal were proving to be a heady mixture, each feeding and intensifying the other in a way she'd never felt before but could get addicted to all too easily.

Villanelle's free hand skimmed down the curve of her waist and across her stomach, smooth and precise on the way to its destination. When she felt that strong hand slip between her legs, she tried to make a sound of protest that was quickly cut off by the taller woman's mouth on hers again. Villanelle's hand was sure, cupping her firmly through the fabric of her lounge pants, feeling the heat of her, pressing against her just so. She released a ragged gasp as Villanelle pulled back again, their eyes meeting as her fingers continued their insistent rhythm. Eve was startled to find that her hips were rolling against the assassin's hand, and that a familiar pressure was building inside her. The knife was still at her throat, the blood from the small wound it had left snaking down her skin inside the shirt Villanelle had mocked. Her skin felt like it was on fire, her eyes locked on Villanelle's, who was looking at her with a kind of wonder. 

That torturous hand moved up to slip beneath the waistband of her trousers and find the bare flesh beneath, but the moment was broken by the sound of a key in the lock. They shared a moment of frustrated agony, and then the fear came back into Eve's eyes as she realised the danger.

"Please." Her voice was throaty, desperate with needs that she didn't know how to articulate. "Please?"

Villanelle's face snapped back to a calculated, businesslike expression. She grabbed Eve's phone off the table. "What is your PIN?"

Eve, shocked, confused still in that haze of arousal and terror, gave it to her and she keyed it in with that same quick, easy precision that had characterized all her movements.

"Okay, thank you so much for your help." Her voice came out in a cut glass English accent, so smooth and easy that it took Eve a second to remember that this wasn't what she had sounded like at all. She scooped up the wet dress. "I'll take this." Her whisper was conspiratorial, she might even have winked. She shrugged into her jacket and stepped confidently out into the hall.

"Hi! I'm sorry, I'm just leaving." Eve could hear Niko and Dom's confused hellos in the hall, and then the front door opened. "Thanks, Eve, that was _delicious_." She drew out the word delicious in a way that made Eve throb, her head falling back against the fridge as she tried to claw herself back together to face her husband.


End file.
